


Before it's Too Late

by CLeighWrites



Series: Random Song Inspired Fics [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Break Up, Emotional Hurt, Emotionally Hurt Jensen Ackles, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Makeup Sex (mentioned), The End of Every Relationship is the Hardest Part, impala-dreamer's Make Me Feel It Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:54:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22489003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CLeighWrites/pseuds/CLeighWrites
Summary: Jensen comes home early to surprise you one weekend before the rift between you grows too far.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Reader
Series: Random Song Inspired Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626451
Kudos: 15





	Before it's Too Late

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Impala_Dreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Dreamer/gifts).



> This was written to make @impala-dreamer feel something, as per her challenge. The song I picked for inspiration was Ed Sheeran’s _Happier_. Also, Jensen totally spends Big Money on skincare… I will die on this hill…
> 
>   
> 

You hurt the ones you love. That’s a thing people say. Jensen had never really given much credence to the aphorism until it happened to him. He’s not even sure when it started; one day it just seemed that the two of you lived to hurt each other. 

He would purposefully eat the last bagel after you’d used the last of his face cream. You’d refused to drive his passport to the airport after he’d taken your sunglasses with him. That hadn’t been an intentional dig, he’d just wanted a piece of you to come with him; he was missing you more and more and hadn’t been able to figure out how to remedy his loss. He felt like the only thing the two of you were really good at anymore was fighting then having makeup sex. He truly missed the way things had been between you. 

Before you’d gotten your promotion, he would fly you up to visit him on set for days at a time. Those days were long past, you couldn’t even travel with him when he had conventions on the weekends anymore. Couldn’t or _wouldn’t_ , either way, you weren’t there, didn’t _want_ to be there. He longed for the days where you would walk the carpet with him at events, watching as other stars lined the path and had their names yelled at them from everyone within photo-snapping distance. You had always been stunning by his side, even though you hated ‘getting coiffed’, as you’d put it. He loved having somewhere to take you, to show you off, to let the world know that he had you. 

Jensen had pulled some strings and gotten written out of a scene so he could come home early one weekend. A weekend that he didn’t have a convention to go to. A weekend that he planned on devoting to you, the two of you; spending time with and getting to know each other again. Reconnecting. Maybe even have sex because you still loved one another and not as a way of ending the argument of the day.

The second he stepped up to the door, he felt like something wasn’t right. Something was _off_. He unlocked the door and let it swing open. Everything was still in its place, table by the door with a small bowl for keys, which was empty until Jensen set his down. There were fewer photos on the wall as if you’d decided to redecorate. He noticed that you’d finally put away your yoga equipment from the living room. 

As he moved through the space everything felt cold, almost abandoned. When he got to the bedroom, he realized why. Your rows of shoes were not there to be tripped over, the closet was half empty, and all of your accessories weren’t littering the top of the dresser. You were gone. 

His hands started to shake and his legs were no longer supporting his full weight. When he sat on the bed, it brought a picture of the two of you into his line of sight. It was taken in Malibu when you had taken a day trip from L.A. while he was there for meetings. You had on a sun hat that filtered the sunlight on your face into tiny little patterns; you were smiling, big as could be, at the camera, while he was looking at you like you were the center of the universe. You had been at one time; he’d obviously lost sight of that at some point. 

Rage gripped him, and he grabbed the frame and threw it at the wall opposite him. Tears started to fall and fear cinched his stomach. How could he have let this happen? How could he have let it go this far before realizing what would happen? More importantly, how could he have hurt you to the point of you leaving without a word? You had called to talk, when was it? Two or three days before? You hadn’t said anything, then; of course, he'd to hang up after a few minutes because he'd been called to set, but damn! He went back through the entire house, looking for a letter, a note, a Post-It, anything that would explain what was going on. There was nothing for him to find but more half-empty spaces and missing things that had always pissed him off. 

After the fear and anger subsided, he felt numb. He didn’t bother turning any lights on as he made his way to the bar to pour himself a drink. Nor did he bother with putting the topper back on the decanter of scotch. He sat there in the dark, in the silence that was giving him a headache, as he drank himself to sleep. His subconscious betrayed him, playing your greatest hits on a loop while he tossed and turned through the night. 

The next morning he awoke resolved; he was going to call you and beg you to come back. He would swear to never mistreat you again and even planned on suggesting couples counseling. His elaborate speech, along with any hope he may have allowed himself, died in his dry throat when he heard the disconnection tone. It was over, you were done, and there was nothing he could do to get back the best part of his life. He was too late.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't be shy, let me know what you think!


End file.
